


sweetener

by EucratesBrice



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Everyone Is Alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hale Family Feels, High School Student Derek, Human Hale Family, M/M, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Run-On Sentences, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 20:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20070442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EucratesBrice/pseuds/EucratesBrice
Summary: He rolls over till he falls off the bed- the only method he’s found to work in getting him out from under the sheets- and sits in silence on the floor in a puddle of blankets for just a few moments as he states at his calendar that’s pasted on the wall in front of him.Today is March 4th. Today is March 4th.On March 4th of the previous year Stiles had made him promise himself that if all determiners remained constant by March 4th of on oncoming year then he would proceed with the Woo Lydia Martin's Pants Off But Gentleman Caller Style Master Plan.The plan goes like this; Ask Derek Hale to Fake Date Him. Get Into Social Circle. Real Date Lydia Martin.It's all very espionage, secret spy entering mafia. Very rivetting plan. Brilliant. Nothing could go wrong. Foolproof. Scientific, even.





	sweetener

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Cunning Plan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4647780) by [yodasyoyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo). 

> I started this fic before reading the fic A Cunning Plan, but I was informed of it and then read it and then proceeded to love it. It has very similar tropes and also the second best ship-that-i-wish-somehow-happened aka Laura/Lydia so go check it out!!!

The birds outside chirp loudly, announcing the bright spring morning for the glory that it is while the summer sun gently kisses the tops of swaying blades of grass and the walls of little suburban houses. It spills gracefully into the messy room of one Stiles Stilinski, over his pile of discarded and yet to be done laundry, his stacks of incomplete assignments and thesis answers he’s written out for questions no one asked him. It’s a beautiful, cheerful, wonderful day.

It’s hateful. It’s truly hateful.

Stiles groans, covering his eyes to block out the harsh sunlight. He would hiss, but his dad already has suspicions that Stiles was bitten by a creature of the night and he’s _really_ better off in life without constant and rather worrisome check ups from the county Sheriff. He rolls over till he falls off the bed- the only method he’s found to work in getting him out from under the sheets- and sits in silence on the floor in a puddle of blankets for just a few moments as he states at his calendar that’s pasted on the wall in front of him. Today is March 4th. _Today is March 4th_.

_Today is March 4th_.

_Today is March 4th_.

He clambers up to his feet, kicking the now offensive rather than protective blanket away as he flails his way towards the calendar. _March 4th_\- brightly circled and adorned with stars and exclamation points. _March 4th_; the day he’d promised himself that he would, against all odds and despite all his aversions to the idea, woo one very beautiful, very smart and very much out of his league Lydia Martin.

_March 4th_; the bane of his existence.

He slips into the bathrooms repeating a mantra of _you are you’re own worst enemy, Stiles, no one is even asking you to do this but yourself. You really have no one else to blame here but you, buddy_. He slips out, slips into the first pieces of clothes he can find, slips downstairs to wolf his way through breakfast dutifully repeating his mantra. It’s only midway through his this slide of toast that he leaps to his feet and dashes up the stairs screaming,

“I can’t wear this! It’s _march 4th_.”

°°°

On March 4th of the previous year Stiles Stilinski made a vow to himself that if by chance that all playable factors in his master plan remains constant as of march 4th of the coming year then he would be all but forced to enact said master plan.

The determiners of said master plan were as follows;

1\. Lydia Martin still existed and still went to Beacon Heights, though maybe he could find a way to make this work even if she had moved. Move mountains for Lydia Martin was a thing Stiles was ready to do.

2\. Derek Hale still existed and went to Beacon Heights.

3\. Derek Hale was still tragically single.

4\. Derek Hale still hated dating and the very idea (see; Derek Hale’s dating past)

5\. Laura Hale still existed (see; Determinant number 6)

6\. Laura Hale still worked as a deputy in the Beacon Hills police department as thus Stiles was able to cajole information out of her (read; pry her for whether or not she’s still nagging her brother about dating people again. Preferably _non homicidal_ and _in the ballpark of his age)_

7\. Stiles hadn’t committed any crimes, was a model citizen with a sheriff as a parent and was still decidedly seventeen therefore only one year younger than the elusive Derek Hale.

Everything seemed to check out. Stiles was criminal record-less. Derek was date-less. They all existed and hadn’t been magically snatched away into an alternate dimension. Or dead, they weren’t dead. So March 4th had weaselled it’s way into happening- _as it does every year after March 3rd_\- and Stiles was hereby forced to enact _Woo Lydia Martin’s Pants Off But Gentleman Caller Style Master Plan_. **WLMPOBGCSMP**. A working title. Give him a break, he didn’t think this would really happen.

Not that he thought one of them was going to die. There are just seven determinants to change, but they all remain constant and Stiles was about to get his ass handed to him in the school parking lot.

**Stage One; Ask and Yee shall be recipient of**. 

Derek Hale- god bless his bisexual ass (bless _Stiles_’ bisexual ass, not Derek’s and not because Derek is not bisexual but because God has _already_ blessed that ass, and Stiles is digressing but let the final note be that if Steve Rogers’s needed a break from being America’s Ass then Stiles would **readily** volunteer Derek Hale for the job)- was leaning against his car, alone.

This wasn’t _happenstance_, or _luck_, or f_ate_, or the god forbidden _alignment of the stars_. This was due to well thought out and conducted research. Derek was alone every Tuesday for exactly twenty minutes while he waits for his sister to finish Orchestra practice, and he would spend them by leaning against his fancy car looking like he would rather be off somewhere dying or writing monologues and odes about pain and the human condition that would put Hamlet and John Keats to shame.

This was Stiles’ only chance to catch him alone that didn’t include sneaking up behind him in the men’s room like an actual creep. Let it be known that through out all of this research, Stiles managed to hold on to a semblance of sanity and dignity.

Plus getting rightly beaten up- because he can admit that he’s about to deserve it- in the men’s room is far more embarrassing than getting beaten up in the parking lot will ever be. Let least lying limp on the gravel will be dramatic. Imagine the camera panning away upwards as Stiles lies in a pool of blood on the gravel floor- _chilling_, _amazing_, **_cinematic_**!

There’s always a different way to look at things, as his father says. Though he says that about murders and more specifically, looking in different angles when solving murders so maybe it’s not the _greatest_ line for optimism. Sue him, he’s nervous.

So with the confidence of a gazelle being chased by a very eager cheetah, he stalks over to Derek’s sleek black Camaro that props up one sleek, fit, _gorgeous_, Derek. Stiles clears his throat, causing Derek to snap his attention away from his phone and stare wildly at Stiles like he’d emerged from the ground as a scrawny demon. _Scrawny_, he gets. _Demon_ is pushing it too far. Possibly. His dad’s opinion is not to be taken into account because his dad is a melodramatic aging man.

“Hello, Derek Hale my name is Stiles Stilinski and I have a proposal for you.”

Good start. Solid, formal introduction. Covered all the bases.

Derek, however, scoffs lightly, “Got a business card to go with that, _kid_?”

Stiles scrunches up his nose, “Whoa, hey. I’m only an year younger than you _grandpa_.”

Derek simply raises his eyebrows and then returns his attention to his phone as though he’s had enough of Stiles already. Brilliant start. Amazing. Stiles is constantly dumbfounded by his own superior intellect. He’s clearly already got Derek swooning.

“I need to use you.”

No. Wrong. Came out so wrong. _Somehow_, he thinks bitterly to himself in the split second it takes for Derek’s head to snap back up with a menacing glare, _you’ve made it worse, Stiles_. **_Amazing_**.

“I’m _sorry_,” Derek smiles bitterly, “I’m not in the market to be _used_ right now. Check back in a few years.”

“Okay, no wait. That came out really badly,” Stiles winces, “I’m sorry, let me start again.”

“No, no. There was nothing bad about that. I love being seen as the person in school that people can come to when they need to use someone. If I’d know this would happen when I dated Kate, _gee whizz_, I would have dated her much earlier!”

Stiles flounders, “Hey, dude. No, I’m not _Kate_. Look, I’m going to put out all my intentions on the line, okay? It’s going to be like a super mutual thing and it’s not even sex related! No sex involved! Not that you had sex with Kate. Not that you didn’t. But if you did, she’s an actual rapist. But not that you asked me!”

One of Derek’s caterpillar eyebrows climb up his forehead, mocking him with the painstakingly judgemental movement. Stiles deserves this, he knows that. God, he’s the _worst_. This plan was the _worst_. Was he drunk when he made this? He wasn’t. He _literally_ only has himself to blame.

“Look,” Stiles starts, “its less than no sex related even. I kind of maybe sort of need to fake date you.”

Derek stares at him blankly.

Previously Stiles assumed the guy had only two facial expressions and emotions. He thought this guy’s entire emotional range could be summed up by two persons. The first Derek Hale was _oh woe is mine_, _Shakespeare_ whomst, _Troy Bolton in Scream_ crashing on lockers with an additional don’t think I’m happy about this I’ve just decided to live with this this must happen and is a side effect of being me and being alive Derek Hale.

The second was a I am going to kill you by ripping your throat out with my teeth and then maybe I’ll bring you back to life to kill you again leave forever puny human Derek Hale. Both very Holden Caulfield.

  
“Right,” Stiles continues when he realizes he’s let a pregnant silence lapse between them, or totter between them as pregnant ladies often do, “Look, I need to elevate my social status here. And like for amazing reasons! Good pure of heart motives! I need to impress Lydia Martin. Dude, she’s my _soul mate_. She’s my _everything_. My one and only. The Elle Woods to my Emmet. The Blair Waldorf to my Chuck Bass, except I’m more Dan Humphrey than Chuck Bass _**not**_ that I watch that show. If I did though; Dan. Anyway, I need that and well, I know Laura’s been on your ass about dating people even though you don’t want to. The way I see it? Win-win.”

The pregnant silence returns and totters between then some more.

“Feel free to beat me up right now, I won’t even protest and when my dad asks me I’ll say I walked into a pole. He won’t even bat an eyelid cause I have some serious bad blood with gravity and spatial awareness so he’d totally believe me.”

The silence is so pregnant it should give birth. _When will it’s water break? Is it ready? Baby bag packed and ready to go? Is it prepared for motherhood?_ Why is Stiles’ brain like this?

“Okay."

The silence that follows is in Stiles’ part, and yes it’s as unbelievable to him as it will be to anyone else. Silence and Stiles? What an unlikely pair.

“_What_?” Stiles gapes.

“Okay,” Derek repeats but he repeats it achingly slow like Stiles is a toddler who’s being cajoled into saying his first words and should therefore learn the phonetics of it, “You’re right. Laura’s on my ass. You want to date Lydia Martin. Okay.”

Derek speaks in such short sentences with barely any inflection that it shocks him. Makes him reel back. Makes his kind swirl. Look at him talking in such short staggered sentences. Like a baby duckling learning from the master. Derek talks like a William Faulkner chapter; _My mother was a fish_. Like a chapter from Misery by Stephan King; _Rinse_. Just a few words excess from being monosyllabic.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says when his brain catches up and is finished with psychoanalysing Derek Hale’s dialect, “Oh my god this is amazing. Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means!”

Derek reels back, “Okay. If we’re going to date, you need to stop. Stop doing that. Jumping. Everyone will know it’s fake. Because I hate jumping.”

Derek actually takes abnormally long pauses in between each sentence. It’s abysmal but also extremely interesting. No- Derek Hale’s dialect comes second. _WLMPOBGCSMP_ comes first. He should really find a new name. He nods earnestly to let Derek know that he now knows that jumping is a no go. Derek knows how to be succinct. Master of being succinct.

“So, what do we call it?”

“A deal?”

“What? No, I meant what do we call this?”

“Oh, dating. We’ll have to be and official couple. Until you get Lydia’s attention. Or whatever it is you need. Or plan to do. Anything less than a couple won’t suffice. My sister won’t settle.”

Stiles frowns, “No, I mean great yeah _dating_ that’s the plan. But I meant what do we call this? This _plan_. Initially I called it _woo Lydia Martin’s pants off but gentleman caller style master plan_. But that seems long and one sided but we can’t call it _woo Lydia Martin and also get Laura Hale off Derek’s back master plan_ because that’s way long too. You see my point?”

Derek rolls his eyes, “We’ll call it The Proposal.”

“Just...the Proposal?”

“Yes,” Derek huffs, “Like The Proposal.”

“Oh!” Stiles knocks his head with his hand, “Like _the proposal_! Oh yeah, you’re definitely Sandy B though.”

Derek stiffens, “No. You’re the one who initiated this.”

“Yes, but you’re one who’s allergic to a full spectrum of human emotions. **_And_** you’re the one who needs the American Government, or Laura Hale but like same thing, off your back. **_And_** I need a promotion! It works out perfectly! We’re just like the proposal!”

“Except we won’t fall in love.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“I think your jumping is unnerving and annoying.”

“And you’re seriously allergic to a full spectrum of human emotions,” Stiles pipes up with a smile, “We got this in the bag dude. No string actually attached. Both goals shall be achieved. Perfect. I’ll draft a contract, what should it say?”

“A what?”

“A contract, Derek,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “To make sure we’re both perfectly comfortable with this. What do you want it to say? Like boundaries, and duties. Like a plan. A plan of action. We can’t barge in guns blazing with no plan!”

Derek nods, “Okay. Dinner at my family’s. Once every three weeks.”

Stiles nods, “Okay. And I’ll need to go to parties with you, _obviously_, because I need to meet Lydia and get to know her.”

“You have to come to my games. My family will hate it if you don’t support me.”

“Alright. Sweaty dudes barrelling into each other, I can deal with that I can watch that.”

“You have to _support_ me. Wear my jacket. Hold up a sign. _Support_ me.”

“I can totally do that! Make a big ass sign and wave it around- _**no**_ don’t look at me like that, I didn’t mean **_embarrass_** you! I meant like seriously, I can! I’m a really supportive person I go to all of Scott’s lacrosse games even though he just wants the bench because support is important, okay, and I _totally_ get that.”

“I’ll have to support you, too. Or else my parents will think I’m turning heartless.”

“God forbid, right? I mean maybe if you _smiled_ every now and then they’ll stop thinking that. Or _not_. We can go with _not_. My dad thinks I might be a _vampire_ because I forget to sleep a lot so what the hell do I know about parents right? Anyway, you can come to math club tournaments, I guess. If you want.”

Derek nods, “And no sex.”

“Yes, hundred percent agree. No sex. I want my first time to mean a lot so definitely yes, no sex. I mean I don’t even know if I can kiss you, I’ve never kissed anyone!”

“We’ll probably have to kiss,” Derek rolls his eyes, “Pecks or whatever. I’m mostly physical in love language.”

Which, okay. Derek knows his love language. That’s not cute or anything.

“So we’ll have to hug,” Derek adds with remorse, like the idea not hugging Stiles physically pains, “And I’ll put my hand over your shoulder or whatever. When we walk.”

“Oh! And no dating other people. Cause I don’t want Lydia thinking I’m cool with open relationships. I mean I’m not judging, it’s just not my thing, you know?”

“My mom would never approve of an open relationship,” Derek laughs, “So yeah, I know. Dates. We’ll have to go on dates. So Laura buys it.”

They both agree that they have one person their allowed to spill the beans to- Stiles obviously picks Scott, because that’s what bros do and he’s like his only friend, and Derek picks Boyd. 

“Shit!” He exclaims, “My twenty minutes are up, I should leave before Cora gets here because she still really scares me. Always will. Bye Derek!"

He bounds off, leaving what he sees to be a frowning and confused Derek Hale. But the _March 4th Proposal Plan_\- the Stiles and Derek Proposal Plan, **_SADPP_**\- was underway. Determinants were constant. No love would come of this except for the love he’ll share with Lydia. Perfect.

What could go wrong?

_Famous last words_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fun fic to burn stress I don't plan on updating too fast in my usually daily speed. Maybe once or twice a week! :D


End file.
